


Old Scars, Future Hearts

by Arwriter



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Has Panic Attacks, Apologies, Arguments, Can be platonic or romantic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Breakdown, Panic Attacks, Self-Esteem Issues, Unconditional Love, Virgil's family loves him, protective sides
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:40:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25718209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arwriter/pseuds/Arwriter
Summary: Virgil isn't quite sure how to ask for help this time. After all, his family wouldn't want to help if they were still upset with him, right?
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 25
Kudos: 415





	Old Scars, Future Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> TW: self harm kinda. It's not exactly intentional, mostly just scratching. Nothing too graphic but stay safe pls

Virgil hadn’t had a panic attack this bad in a while. 

He supposed it made sense, after all he’d just single handedly ruined everything he’d worked towards for almost a year now. All because of one bad day. A bad day where he’d wanted nothing more than to curl up on the couch with his family and hear their gentle reassurances, feel their constant presence wash away all the intrusive thoughts and ugly impulses. 

He certainly had a funny way of showing them what he wanted. 

He could have just asked for help. He knew that now, they’d shown him countless times he could trust them. They were more than willing to help him through an attack, offer him anything to keep one from happening, always sitting through him if he needed to just ride it out. 

It always made it better when he wasn’t alone. 

But no one wanted to be around him right now. Not when he’d been so pointlessly angry and cruel towards all of them, spitting venom like things were back to how they used to be, his defenses raised high. 

He’d snarled and yelled, riling them all up until even Patton had lost some of his placating composure, making Virgil flinch back into shocked silence when the moral side raised his voice. 

Logan and Roman had stormed off to cool down, and Patton, clearly frustrated and annoyed with his behavior, had asked Virgil to leave to give the others some space. 

He had failed to mention when Virgil should come back. 

Did...did that mean he wasn’t supposed to go back downstairs until someone else told him he could? Was he supposed to wait up here until they decided they could forgive him? 

Did they...even want him to come back? 

_ Of course they didn’t.  _ Why would they? They’d all been having a perfectly nice time before he’d barged in and ruined it with his pissy mood. All because he was too stupid to ask for help like a normal person. 

Virgil’s breath hitched dangerously at the image that filtered into his head, the three of them together in the living room, happy for the first time in months that he was gone. Cast out, again, like the villain they always knew he was. Even after all this time. 

Briefly, he thought about punching his wall until his knuckles split open. Instead, he settled on biting down on the back of his hand to drown out the urge. 

A part of him had been hoping, in some stupid way, that the others would pick up on his unusual burst of anger as a poor attempt at expressing his rising anxiety and seen him picking a fight as a desperate cry for help. 

It was selfish, really. Having a rough day didn’t give him an excuse to be an asshole. He couldn’t expect them to read in between the lines. They didn’t owe him anything. 

_ He  _ was the one who owed them  _ everything.  _ They’d given him a second chance. They’d accepted him. They’d allowed him to be a part of their family, as difficult as he could be. 

And this was how he repaid them. Even after things had gotten so much better after so long. It wasn’t fair. They didn’t deserve to put up with this. They should have let him sink out permanently when they had the chance to get rid of him, let him fade away until…

Oh. Oh, it was one of  _ these  _ attacks. Where the panic mixed with relentless thoughts and impulses and hatred until he lost all semblance of control. 

He wasn’t...he wasn’t supposed to be alone during these. Not anymore. He was supposed to get one of the others the moment he started having these thoughts. 

Virgil’s breath caught in his chest again, dissolving into stuttering gasps and he fought to get a hold of himself, shuddering violently as the panic and dread began to hit full force. 

In a frantic attempt at grounding himself, he moved his free hand to dig into his scalp, whimpering as he raked his nails along the side of his face, wincing when he felt his nails break through skin. 

It was exactly what he was supposed to try and avoid, warm blood sticking to his fingers, but the pain helped him to focus for a moment at least, struggling to take in a proper breath. 

It was just an argument. They fought all the time. It wasn’t a big deal. They would all calm down, he’d apologize and explain, and it would all go back to normal. 

It would be fine. It  _ was  _ fine. It was fine, it was fine, it was--

He bit down on his hand so hard it snapped him from his frantic mantra, eyes flying open as a cry of alarm escaped from his lips, choking on a sob as a burst of pain shot through his whole arm. 

It was only then, blinking down at his lap in shock, that he realized just how much blood he’d drawn with his teeth. He also realized, with a growing sense of foreboding, that his other hand hadn’t stopped scratching, moving now to his arm beneath the hoodie sleeve, the skin stinging and burning beneath his touch. 

He hadn’t panicked like this in what felt like forever. Hadn’t lost control in months. The last time he had, he hadn’t been alone. The others had stopped him from taking anything too far. 

But they were upset with him now, and rightfully so. He knew better than to ask for something from the people he’d hurt for no good reason. 

It was fine. It was just a stupid panic attack. He could handle it on his own. It would pass, and he would be fine. He would...he…

He needed help. 

God, he couldn’t go through this alone. He wouldn’t make it. He needed to at least ask to sit in the same room as someone, as petty and selfish as it was. 

He was moving before he even really registered it, prying his hand away from his mouth, hands slick with sweat and blood. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, squeezing them into trembling fists, stumbling slightly as he forced himself to move towards the door. 

He could ask for help. Surely they would understand that he wasn’t trying to get out of apologizing or owning up to his actions. They were all mad at him, but Patton would at least offer him a glass of water and a quiet place to sit down. 

Even if they were pissed, they wouldn’t want him to end up hurting himself. Right? 

He fumbled slightly with the doorknob, fingers still wet and unsteady, and making his way downstairs felt more like a perilous quest than a simple trek down the hall. 

But he made it, wiping furiously at his eyes, breathing too quick and labored, chest tight and aching. He was losing feeling in his hands, his head pounding, the world too cold and far away. 

Virgil could hear distant noises from the living room, able to pinpoint both the sound of the television and the quiet voices of the other sides. 

His heart sank, panic unwittingly picking up at the thought of all of them together, happily discussing how much better it would be if Virgil never came back, how they wished he would just-- 

Virgil forced himself to move forward, pushing back another sob as he carefully made his way towards the living room, pausing in the entryway as he took in the sight. 

The three of them were scattered across the living room, apparently all minding their own business, the quiet a bit too forced to be entirely peaceful. 

Logan was in the armchair, a book in his lap, for once looking like he was having trouble focusing as he gazed down at the open pages. Roman was on the couch, scowl on his lips as he squinted at the tv, uninterested, fiddling absently with the remote. Patton was seated at the windowsill, gazing out into the mindscape beyond, knees up against his chest, drumming his fingers along his legs. 

Virgil’s approach had been quiet enough that no one had seen him yet, his breathing too shallow to make any noticeable noise. He could still back out and deal with this on his own, spare them from having to deal with his stupid problems. 

But he was talking before he could convince himself otherwise, voice nothing more than an unsteady croak. 

“Guys?” 

Immediately, all eyes were on him and the tension in the room skyrocketed. Roman quickly muted the tv, but his scowl deepened, leaning back against the couch as he stared at Virgil. 

They were all watching him with varying levels of disdain, though Logan was near impossible to read and Patton seemed a bit more hopeful, albeit hesitant, than Roman. 

When the silence stretched on a bit too long, Virgil struggling to keep from breaking down right then and there, Logan raised an eyebrow and closed his book. 

“Yes, Virgil?” 

They were all waiting, he realized suddenly, expectant and impatient. They wanted an apology, and of course Virgil had planned on giving them one, (he’d fall to his knees and beg their forgiveness a thousand times over if he had to) but they would also want an explanation. A reason for why he’d acted the way he did, why he’d hurt them, and an opening to talk this out maturely to keep it from happening again. 

And Virgil wanted that too. Of course he did. He didn’t  _ want  _ to fight, even if he’d managed to prove the exact opposite today. 

But he...he couldn’t right now. No matter how much he wanted to, he just  _ couldn’t.  _ He could barely think, barely stand, struggling to look any of them in the eye without completely falling apart. 

He couldn’t talk about it now, unfair as it was to them. He just...he just needed…

“I’m s-I’m sorry,” he forced himself to say, cringing at how horribly shaky and weak his voice was, eyes dropping to the floor. “I-I’m s-so sorry I-I know you’re...you’re mad but I...I need help.” 

Virgil wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. His anxiety riddled brain was screaming that they would yell at him, scream until he was fleeing back to his room, telling him to never come back. 

The rational part of his brain reminded him that they would likely just be annoyed and in no way willing to help him as gently as they usually would. He could easily picture Roman’s scoff, Logan’s eye roll, and Patton’s annoyed sigh. 

They would ridicule him once he’d calmed down a bit, Patton offering him a bit of comfort while (politely, of course, it was still Patton) explaining just how unfair and childish his behavior was, and he couldn’t expect them to coddle him after he’d acted the way he did. 

What they did for him, he knew they did out of pity and obligation to Thomas. He should be grateful and take only what he deserved. He had no right to ask for more. 

But when he risked a glance up, he was met only with honest worry and concern. From all of them. Not a single hint of dismissal or annoyance. 

They were all immediately hurrying to stand, Logan tossing his book aside as Patton nearly ran across the living room to get to Virgil’s side, all previous irritation having faded just like that. 

“Alright honey, what’s wrong? What’s going on?” He reached forward, stopping just short of touching with a small gasp. “Oh, Virgil you’re bleeding!” 

_ “What?”  _

That was Roman’s outburst from the other side of the room and Virgil flinched, hugging his arms and curling in on himself, shame and humiliation burning bright. 

“Sorry,” Virgil said again, not sure he could manage much else right now. “S-sorry I didn’t-didn't mean to I--” 

Patton was shushing him gently, carefully taking Virgil’s hands in his despite the blood, and the anxious side fell silent as he was pulled close and guided forward. 

“It’s alright, kiddo,” he soothed. “It’s alright, we know you didn’t. Come over to the couch, ok? We’re gonna take care of you.” 

All Virgil could do was nod numbly, confused beyond belief but hopeful despite himself, letting Patton move him towards the couch on wobbling legs, muttering constant reassurances. 

“Logan will you run and get the first aid kit?” Patton asked at some point, suddenly bringing Virgil to a careful stop. “Roman can you--?” 

“Of course.” 

There was no hesitation, no bitterness or scorn in his voice, just Prince’s strong arms quickly replacing Patton, helping Virgil sit back on the couch. 

“There you are, Stormcloud,” Roman said fondly. “You’re ok. I’m right here, I promise.” 

Virgil was leaned back against something solid, and it took him a moment to realize it was Roman’s chest, the Prince’s steady breathing and strong heartbeat a familiar comfort against the panic. 

And that one gesture, the one Roman had offered a million times before, that was enough to break him. Because despite how horrible he’d been, they were still so willing to help him. 

He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve any of them. 

He couldn’t even hope to hold back the sob that escaped him, desperate but frail, his entire body shuddering violently in Roman’s hold. He tried to curl in on himself, only breaking further when Roman began to run his fingers through Virgil’s hair, frantically trying to calm him down. 

“No no no, Virgil, you need to stop, ok?” 

At first, he wasn’t sure what Roman meant, blinking furiously through the barrage of tears obscuring his vision. But then Roman was taking his hands, and Virgil realized that in his panic, he’d gone back to scratching at his skin. 

He whimpered as Roman grabbed Virgil’s wrists, holding them to his own chest, Virgil’s gaze dropping to his lap, frustrated and embarrassed. 

“Sorry,” he said, and it came out a barely audible whisper. Suddenly, he wished he hadn’t come down at all. “S-sorry, I--I didn’t--” 

“Look at me, Virgil,” Roman said. “Can you look at me please?” 

Virgil shook his head, eyes squeezed shut. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to see the pity in Princey’s eyes, the concealed annoyance at having to deal with this  _ again.  _

“Hey, it’s alright,” Roman said softly, adjusting his hold so both of Virgil’s wrists were held in one of his hands, the other moving to cup his cheek. “Come on. Let me see those beautiful eyes, Virge.” 

Virgil felt himself blush, face turning red from something other than shame this time, breathing in another hiccuping gasp before sheepishly raising his eyes to meet Roman’s. 

The prince smiled, eyes shining with pride and joy so genuine all of Virgil’s doubts were momentarily silenced. 

“There you go,” he said. “Focus on me and try to copy my breathing, Dr. Gloom. Slow and steady, right? In for four…” 

“R- _ Roman--”  _

“It’s alright,” Princey soothed. “You got this, Virgil. Just breathe for me, ok? I’m right here with you. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. Ready?” 

Roman didn’t start counting again until Virgil nodded, small and hesitant, but determined all the same. His chest ached, lungs screaming for a proper breath, head dangerously fuzzy. 

It took an embarrassingly long time, Virgil messing up the pattern more than once, sending himself back into a fit of breathy apologies which Roman quickly shut down as gently as he could. 

But eventually, Virgil was able to take a few proper breaths, and Roman’s counting died away. At some point he let go of his wrists, gently squeezing his hand instead. 

Gradually, Virgil became distantly aware of another set of hands on his back, rubbing circles along his spine, Patton’s reassurances a constant in his ear. 

“Virgil.” Logan had seated himself on the coffee table in front of the couch, voice calm and steady. “Do you mind rolling up your sleeves for me?” 

Virgil nodded, too tired now to even consider arguing. He shuddered, carefully rolled up his hoodie, wincing when the blood that had yet to dry clung to the cloth and smeared across his skin. 

No one said anything, still no scorn or ridicule in sight. But Patton leaned forward to rest his head on Virgil’s shoulder, and Roman gave his hand another squeeze before allowing Logan to work. 

The logical side cleaned the scratches quickly and efficiently, only pausing with a sympathetic smile when Virgil would hiss against the pain, tensing in Patton’s hold. 

“These aren’t very deep,” Logan said, unraveling the gauze. “You just need to keep them clean. How about your scalp?” 

Virgil opened his mouth, probably to ask how Logan could have known so well where he scratched when he was panicking, but Roman beat him to it. 

“There wasn’t any blood in his hair. Just a few scratches on his face.” 

Logan leaned forward, cautiously taking Virgil’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning his head to inspect the small cuts near the anxious side’s cheek and jaw. 

“These should heal quickly,” he said, still dabbing on the same disinfectant as he spoke. “It’s good you came to us when you did. You’re getting better at asking for help.” 

“You are,” Patton agreed, pulling away. “I’m proud of you, kiddo.” 

And even now that his head was clearer, the world gradually making more and more sense once again, he still...didn’t quite understand. 

“I...I didn’t think…” he swallowed, forcing his voice to steady. “I didn’t think you guys would, you know, want to.” 

There was a beat of uneasy silence, and Virgil kept his eyes glued to the bandages around his arms, fiddling with his hoodie string. 

“You didn’t think we would want to...what? Logan paused, leaning forward slightly. “Help you through your panic attack? Because we were fighting?” 

Virgil heard a heartbroken noise come from Patton when he shrugged, not really understanding why it was that big of a deal. 

“I mean...I made you all mad, right? And I’m--I’m really sorry about that. I-I didn’t mean to get so worked up, and I’m sorry I had to come down here and--and--” 

“Hey, let’s focus on one thing at a time,” Roman said. “You thought that...just because we had a fight we wouldn’t help you through something like that?”

Virgil shrugged again, pulling his knees up to his chest, suddenly feeling overwhelmed all over again. “You...you were mad.” 

“Oh,  _ honey.”  _

Patton was moving off from the couch, and for a terrifying moment Virgil’s heart sank, but the moral side only knelt in front of the couch, a hand resting on Virgil’s leg. 

“We’re never going to leave you to go through that alone,” he said. “What if it was me, Virge? Wouldn’t you still help me through something like that, even if you were upset with me? Or any of us?” 

Virgil flinched, throat threatening to close up under a new wave of panic. Did they think that was what he meant? 

“N-no I...I  _ would.  _ Of course I would.”

He saw Logan frown, the logical side sharing a worried glance with the other two. “Then...why would it be any different with you?” 

And Virgil...wasn’t exactly sure what the answer to that was. He hadn’t thought it out, it just...sort of made sense. He’d known rationally, beneath the overflowing layers of panic, that they wouldn’t turn him away outright. 

He just hadn’t expected them to be so...willing. 

“Because it’s...it’s  _ me,”  _ he said, like that was even remotely acceptable. “It’s...I have these things all the time and you guys deal with it enough even when you’re  _ not _ pissed at me, so--” 

“Virgil,  _ no.”  _ Roman scooted closer, looking strangely devastated as he did so. “You being safe and comfortable isn’t a privilege. What kind of family would we be if we weren’t always going to be here to help you?” 

“Indeed,” Logan agreed. “And you should attempt to reword your previous statement, Virgil. We do not  _ ‘deal’  _ with anything. We help you because we want to.” A pause, and suddenly Logan was looking at him with uncharacteristic affection. “Because we care. Very much.” 

They meant it. Every adoring stare, every word, honest and genuine and kind. It was all...it was too much. He didn’t...he didn’t deserve this. 

“But I...I was awful today. To all of you. It’s not fair, you shouldn’t...I don’t get it. I don’t get why you’re still being so  _ nice.”  _

“Kiddo,” Patton spoke up, and Virgil startled when he realized the moral side’s wide eyes were welling up with tears. “You were having an off day, and we got into a fight. It happens. It’s  _ ok.”  _

“But I still--”

“We were mad,” Patton agreed, tightening his hold. “And maybe these two are still upset or frustrated about what happened. That’s easy to fix. But honey, even if we’re mad or annoyed with you over something, that is  _ never _ going to cancel out our love for you. Ok?” 

Virgil didn’t answer, not even sure he knew how. He wanted to nod, wanted so desperately to fall blindly into everything they were saying. He knew they meant it, knew it made sense, but…

Patton’s hands were suddenly cupping his own, big brown eyes staring up at him imploringly, begging him to listen. 

“We love you, Virgil. I know today was...hard, and you might not believe us right now, but--” 

“I believe you,” he blurted, shoulders hunching under the weight of their hopeful stares. But he couldn’t risk letting any of them think they were the ones doing something wrong. “I do. It’s just. I-I don’t…”

“It’s still hard to grasp,” Logan finished for him. “That is understandable, especially taking into account your past isolation and the frankly shameful way we treated you for so long.” 

“That wasn’t on you guys,” Virgil said. “I was horrible to you for so long. And then-and then you all tried so hard to-to accept me and I’m  _ still  _ horrible and I can never--” 

Roman was shushing him again, an arm held protectively around the anxious side’s shoulders, keeping him close. “Breathe, Virge. It’s not like that anymore.” 

Patton was clutching both of his hands now, crying silently but running his thumb along Virgil’s knuckles in an attempt to calm him down. 

“Roman’s right,” Logan said, flashing the creative side a grateful smile. “We all made mistakes in the past. None of us were perfect. But placing blame is no longer of any concern. We’re a family, and we’re going to right our wrongs. Together.” 

“Exactly,” Patton said, reaching up to wipe at Virgil’s tear stained face. “You deserve it, Virge. I promise that you do.” 

Roman’s hold tightened just enough for Virgil to pick up on it, and Logan’s expression suddenly flooded with warm understanding. 

“Of course you do,” Logic said softly. “In fact, I’m extremely proud of you Virgil. Even with the extra doubts holding you back today, you still managed to bring yourself to ask for help. You’ve made a lot of progress.” 

Virgil shrugged, not quite able to meet Logan’s eyes as he spoke, but smiling despite himself at the way his chest loosened at the words. 

“I’m still sorry for being a jerk,” he muttered. “And for...for not thinking that you guys would still help me.” 

“That’s quite alright,” Logan said. “Because despite convincing yourself we would turn you away, you  _ still  _ came down to ask for help. Do you know why that is, Virgil?” 

When Virgil didn’t answer, now staring resolutely at his hands still intertwined with Patton’s, it was Roman who answered for him. 

“Because you know you deserve it, Virge.” 

“I-I don’t--” 

“You do,” Patton insisted. “And Roman’s right. There’s a part of you that knows that. We just...have to work on helping you see it clearer. Right, Logan?”

“Precisely.” The logical side leaned forward and Virgil risked a glance up, cautiously meeting all of their gazes, finding nothing but love and acceptance. “And we will, of course, always be here to help you. No matter what.”

The other two nodded, Roman’s hold morphing into a gentle hug, Patton once again squeezing his hands in silent reassurance, and Logan still watching him with unmasked admiration and hope. 

Virgil let out a breath, finally allowing himself to properly relax. He still owed them a proper apology, and he knew they weren’t even close to being finished with discussing this, but for now, it could wait. 

“Ok,” he agreed, earning more bright, genuine smiles. “Thank you.” 

They agreed to watch a movie before dinner with only a few half-hearted protests from Logan about breaking their schedule. They piled onto the couch, Virgil surrounded on all sides by comfort and warmth, falling back into an easy peace. 

And as the paranoid fog began to lift, relaxation seeping into his aching bones, for the first time in far too long Virgil began to think that maybe, there was a chance that he just might deserve this. 


End file.
